


ricochet

by santanico



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hotels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:18:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santanico/pseuds/santanico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tequila shots and hotel bed sheets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ricochet

**Author's Note:**

> short, quick write

_She smirks like she has a secret_.

That’s all Elena can think.

 _Like a queen_.

“How does it feel,” Rebekah murmurs, trailing her hands over Elena’s body, “to be just barely alive?”

Elena breathes. The air around them is dirty; the bricks of a club they snuck into. Neon lights hang above, flash the imagine of “21+ ONLY” – as if it matters.

Elena will remain eternally eighteen and somehow that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Her head is buzzing, a feeling she doesn’t remember. Everything else is numb, but Rebekah’s mouth over her neck feels right. The rough bricks on her back and shoulders, the pain beneath everything else, seems right. Rebekah’s fangs scraping along her throat – absolutely, unconditionally, _right_.

She had downed too many shots of tequila. Rebekah held her alcohol better than Elena – she stood perfectly balanced in too-high heels – but that didn’t stop her breath from stinking. It mingles well enough and Elena can’t find enough power to care because Rebekah’s hands are so goddamn warm, under her shirt, hooking under her jeans and tracing their way around to her hips. Elena leans back, relishes in the heat of the touch. There’s nothing stopping her, and the power is so much.

“We’re getting out of here,” Rebekah says, gripping Elena’s chin and tilting her head up with careful force. Elena nods, swallows, makes herself breathe, even if just for a moment. Rebekah’s other hand intertwines with hers and Elena follows like a pet. That’s a good way to put it, she thinks. A pet.

A dirty hotel – Rebekah kisses her in the hallway for the first time. Elena sinks against Rebekah’s body and considers the position she’s in. Trapped between the wall and an original vampire, and she thinks it sounds worse than it is. Rebekah is still warm, and Rebekah unlocks the door, pulling Elena inside. All Elena notices is that the bed is made and the pillow are stiff, a TV positioned on a wooden table against the wall. The space is narrow but they make do, as they always have, Rebekah pressing Elena into over-bleached sheets.

Elena clings. The closeness is all she has now, and Rebekah feels more dangerous now than she had at the bar. Her teeth, her tongue, her fingernails, smooth and sharp, digging into Elena’s hips. They tug at each other’s clothes, make a mess of the bed sheets, Rebekah pushing Elena along the bed by her thighs. Vulnerability strikes but _that_ feels wrong, more so than Rebekah’s hand between her legs, her mouth, her fingers, everything. Elena tries to remember when she lost her boots, her jeans, but it doesn’t matter.

Rebekah takes care of her, like no one else ever has.


End file.
